


I Love You

by disgruntledchowchow



Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:13:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29067108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledchowchow/pseuds/disgruntledchowchow
Summary: When Simon Hastings finally comes to realize what we all knew, he loves Daphne Bridgerton
Relationships: Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset
Comments: 92
Kudos: 239





	1. Chapter 1

Simon vividly remembered the boxing match earlier that day. He remembered seeing Daphne, god she was beautiful, she was smiling and looking utterly radiant. But she was smiling at someone else. That smile that he had been directed at him more and more often as they had met. He watched the slight curve of her lips as they tilted up, the smooth graceful movements as she took her seat. He instantly was brought back to the dances with her…holding her in his arm, he her trusty general, she his gorgeous unattainable...

“Hastings?”

“Oh yes…I will be betting on Will and you would be wise to do so as well.”

.

.

.

He had watched her. He knew what his presence did to women. He knew she was not immune to him. He knew exactly what he was doing back with the spoon at the ice shop. He had closed his eyes and imagined licking her, twisting and flicking his tongue to capture every little bit of sweetness…he knew she would be sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted. And he knew exactly what he was doing now. He had caught and held her gaze, purposefully unbuttoning his shirt, rolling up his sleeves and watched the pink blush bloom on her cheeks.

Late at night, when he was alone with his thoughts, he imagined she blushed like that all over. Dreamed, hoped, prayed that he would be the one to kiss her, to touch her, to slowly undress her and watch her blush spread all of her perfectly soft skin. He imagined it would deepen as he touched her, stroked her, how gorgeous she would look in the throes of passion. Arching her back, panting, screaming his name…

Thankfully his breeches had been rather loose but he couldn’t hide the roiling tempest of passion in his eyes, his blown up pupils that held her gaze.

And he knew she had felt it too.

Her breath had caught, a small gasp escaping before she refocused on the Prince.

He affected her. Maybe not as deeply as the hold she had over him but there was a connection there. Something. As he had watched the match, it took everything in him to not vault over the ring and rip her away from the prince and whisk her away. As he had watched her laugh and giggle with the Prince, a man who could give her everything he could not, even as the plans for the dukedom and for his travels flew through his mind, only one thing remained. He had to have her.

She was not some two-pence woman he could screw and leave. No, she was worth much more than that, she was priceless. And while he could watch the Hastings line die with him, he could manage the tenants from afar, he could run away from everything that had plagued him from the moment he returned to London, he knew he could travel to the ends of the earth but he would never be free of Daphne Bridgerton.

She had wormed her way under his skin, through his bones, into his very soul. If he had his way, she would never know it, but he was forever hers. There would be no other that would ever compare, ever hold a candle to the depth of feeling he had for her, no one that would ever captivate him so.

He had to leave immediately.

.

.

.

He finds himself in the garden watching Daphne rip the Prince’s necklace off. The primal part of him rejoices, she has freed herself of the shackles of another mans affections, but the fact remains…she is still someone else’s now. She’s not his. She never can be his. And the ugly jealous monster Simon has been trying to hide away breaks out. He’s being petty and he knows it. Jabs at her, her happiness, her future, her future husband. Goading her into admitting her feelings, something he refuses to acknowledge.

He knows exactly what the consequences are following her into the garden, but he’s barely in control of himself it’s the jealous monster that’s been raging to escape since a certain blonde Prussian appeared. Watching her, eyes bright, passion in her voice, gesturing wildly, hair uncoiffed, he can no longer feel himself even attempting to keep his distance anymore. He pulls her into his arms, he has to have her.

He tastes her, and she’s better than he could have ever dreamed or hoped. She tastes like the sun on a field of flowers, like flying in the clouds, like the sweetest strawberries, she tastes familiar and safe and wild and novel all at once. Wrenching himself away, he knows it’s absolutely selfishness that brought him here tonight. If he wasn’t going to hell already, this would certainly take him there.

He knows he should have left. In fact, he had been packed and ready to go and had a ship to catch. He had most certainly missed it now, but he was supposed to leave. He had planned to leave. But honest to god it felt like he was leaving the most important piece of himself behind. He didn’t know when he had given his heart to the woman standing in front of him, in fact, he barely realized he had a heart to give but god damn it if she doesn’t have it. He doesn’t even want it back. He’s as sure that he hates his father as he is sure that his heart is now hers, forever and absolutely.

That realization, the softening of his eyes, the dilation of his pupils and hardening of his cock, he has no choice really to give in to her. To give in to what he wants most viscerally with every fibre of his being. And when she pulls him in, when he can pretend for even just ten seconds that she loves him too and that he can love her fully and completely in the way she deserves, there is nothing that could tear him away from her. She’s a siren, calling to him.

This is why he couldn’t leave. Without even trying, without her doing a thing, he feels a desperate need to be with her, to make her smile and laugh, to make her happy and to keep her safe by his side.

And now he has his hands on her, and in the back of his mind he knows if he’s caught he could die and even if he isn’t caught he will never see her again, but it doesn’t matter because he has the woman of his dreams in his arms. And he has to touch every part of her he possibly can because he needs to commit this to memory. No woman will ever compare. He will never be fully satisfied by anyone else. Every woman he ends up with in the future will never measure up and he will always wish it was her. Her responsive, absolutely gorgeous body will be his most treasured memory, and it will torture him that he will never have her again. But all the more reason to make the most of it right now.

.

.

.

He’s going to die. He knows that was a likely occurrence, they were out in the garden where they could be seen. But somehow that’s not what he dwells on. All he can see in his mind is Daphne’s broken look at the idea that he wouldn’t want to marry her, that he didn’t love her. He is not scared to die, he knows he deserves it, but he is going to die and he’ll never get the chance to tell her that he’s going to die because he loves her. Because he loves her so much that he just wants her to be happy and he can’t do that for her no matter how much he wishes he was a man that could.

He loves her.

The realization sends him reeling. He knew she had his heart but it’s the first time he’s really admitted he loves her. God does he love her. Everything about her. He wishes it was different, wishes more than anything in the world that he could be enough for her. He knows without a doubt while he can’t give her what she wants most in the world, he would do everything in his power to make her happy. He would. He would satisfy her better than the prince or anyone else could. He would love her. He would with every fibre of his being. But he couldn’t give her what she most desperately wanted from a marriage. A child.

.

.

.

As he stands in the rain, reeling in the face of Daphne’s confession, he’s mind is still stuck on the fact that she loves him. She knows he’s not perfect, he’s a little broken, a little jagged, a little sharp, but she loves him anyway.

He loves her too. He has for a long time. She doesn’t know it though. He’s never said it. Why hasn’t he said it? Three little words…how hard could it be?

He wants to run after her, to stop her, to tell her, but he sinks to the ground instead. Is love enough? Will it really be enough?

She had once told him that it was clear that any affection he had towards her paled in comparison to his hatred. He understands completely how that seems that way to her. But in reality, it’s like comparing apples and carriages. but not even that. His hatred for his father is a dark twisted shrivelled up apple core shaped cloud that sits heavy on his shoulders, pushing and weighing him down. His feelings —his love—for Daphne is like being filled with air like he’s floating but also like he’s lying on the beach basking in the warmth. It’s not about the location with his feelings for Daphne. It’s about her and feeling happier. lighter.

It’s about feeling free.

Daphne is the sunshine that pushes those oppressive dark clouds away. She is the rainfall after a drought. Come what may he knows the best part of his day is always when he gets to rest in her arms, that she can lighten his mood on the darkest of days, that he no longer needs alcohol he is so intoxicated by her presence. Daphne is his god-given solace and he never wants to let her go.

The more he stands there, watching the rain fall and the sky turn dark, the more he thinks it’s a metaphor for his life without her. Cold and miserable, slipping into darkness.

He has to fix it.

He loves her, and for the first time, even though no ones around to hear it, he takes a deep breath and quietly releases —“I love Daphne.”

He said it. It felt like a weight has lifted. He smiled. Giggled. Laughed even. “I love Daphne.”

“I love Daphne!”

Now all he had to do was tell her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Daphne reunite, but Simon's still worried.

He had walked back into the house with a plan, a speech. He had planned to tell her he was sorry. He would tell her about how his hatred of his father was an all-consuming soul-crushing weight he was carrying all the time. He thought he’d carry it forever. But then he met her. And everything he’d ever known paled in comparison, and as he found himself falling faster and farther than he could ever imagine. While he didn’t want to give in to the feelings as he thought he never had a chance, he realized he had never felt something so life-changing, so transformative, and he realized the hatred he felt paled in comparison to even the earliest feelings he had for her. And now..god it was like he was drowning in an ocean of feelings for her but he didn’t even want to come up for air. He would tell her his feelings for her were the most important thing in his life, they overshadowed any feelings he had for his father, he would do everything to be the man she deserved and he hoped she could accept him. 

He walked in, stripped off his wet clothing till he was just in breeches and shirtsleeves, and gently pushed open the door. He saw her, he saw the worry, the fear, and the relief that he came. She really thought he’d be able to stay away? He can barely stand to be two feet away and she thought he would leave her? He walked in, towards her, and as he stood in front of her, gazing into her soulful eyes, wanting to do everything in his power to reassure her of his feelings, he fell to his knees. He grabbed her hands. He had planned a grand speech, full of feelings, but all he could do, holding her hands, staring into her eyes, all he could do was say “I love you.” 

“I love you, Daphne.” 

He took in the relief in her eyes, watched the smile grow across her face and he felt his heart begin to soar and a smile crossed his face too. This is what he wanted. If making her smile looked like that and made him feel so good then why the hell else would he want to do anything else? 

“Daphne, I had so much to say. I wanted to apologize and I wanted to tell you about my feelings and I wanted to tell you that you’re everything but all I can think of right now is how much I love you. How much I can’t stop thinking about you. How all I want to do is make you happy. Please let me make you happy for the rest of my life. Please, sweetheart. Please?” 

Daphne looked shocked. Happy, she was still smiling, and she hadn’t moved, but she looked surprised. Had he really kept his feelings that much of a secret? It had felt transformative to him like he had to hide it or everyone would know but had he done it so well the person he wanted to tell most in the world had no idea? 

He watched as she kneeled in front of him as well. Watched as she took his face in her hands. Watched as tears filled her eyes. Watched as she choked out an apology to him, an apology for violating his trust, for not listening to him, for ruining them, for not talking to him, and he felt his throat start to close up and tears start to form in his eyes. She looked so sad and contrite it was all he could do to just pull her into his arms, and hold her tight like he never wanted to let her go because he didn't. 

“Sweetheart...baby...thank you for apologizing. I think both of us could have done a better job of communicating and being honest with each other, and in the future, we will. We will talk to each other. Always.” 

He felt Daphne pull away from him, out of his arms and wipe away her tears. He figured she wanted to say something but even then he just wanted her back in his arms. She had told him that he made her feel safe, she had whispered it into his chest as they were lying entwined in bed one night. But the reality was she was like his anchor, she was like a lighthouse and he was a ship trying to find port, and she was home, she was his safety, she was his everything. 

He watched her wipe her away her tears and his hand lifted on its own accord to wipe away an extra stray one. Before she could speak, without even thinking he let her know that he was no longer in the business of making vows, but he would do everything in his power to make sure she was never unhappy or alone, and that he would always comfort her and be there for her and he prayed he would not see her in tears anymore as it broke him a little more as each tear fell. 

She smiled a watery smile at that admission. But she took a deep breath and staring at their joined hands she asked if it was possible he would try to trust her again. She would do everything in her power to earn that trust, but she wanted to know whether there was a spark, a kernel of hope still there. 

At the sombre, but necessary turn of conversation his back straightened. It wasn’t even something to think about, and he said yes. Yes of course there was hope for them. They would do this together. He pulled her back into his arms, it felt so natural to have her against him, to hear her heartbeat strong and reassuring next to his, to smell the slight lavender scent he would forever associate with her in her hair. This is where he wanted to exist. In a slightly lavender and fresh rain scented bubble, wife in his arms. 

He smiled as she mentioned that she didn’t want kids right away at all honestly, and now that she finally had all of Simon, she wanted him all to herself for a while longer before she had to share him even if it was with their kids. He pressed a light kiss to her hair. He added that he would love more time with his wife just to himself too. There was still so much to learn about each other, so much to explore, and while he knew one day he wanted their little bubble to expand include a little one, for now, it was just perfect with the two of them. 

.

.

.

“You’re still wet from the rain, Simon.” 

“So I am...what are you going to do about it?” 

He watched her move to unbutton his shirt further, but as she hesitated and looked back into his eyes, he saw the uncertainty in their depth, and he chose his words carefully. He did truly love his wife and while he wanted nothing more than to show her just how much, to cement their emotional connection with a physical one, it didn’t feel right at the moment. She was most probably exhausted after planning the ball and from the ball and from staying up all night waiting for him, he knew the serious conversation from earlier was still weighing on both of them, and he knew he was absolutely exhausted not just from last night but since he didn’t know how to get a good night's sleep without her in his arms. 

“Sweetheart while I would love nothing more, I haven’t slept properly, neither have you and if I am being honest I haven’t slept well since the last night you were in my arms. Make no mistake, I want you, but not now. Let us rest, let me hold you close, let me reassure myself you’re here, you’re mine, and then when we’re both rested...well you’ll need the energy.” 

He could see the relief in her eyes as he picked her up bridal style to carry her over to the bed. As he divested her of her clothes and removed his, he wanted her skin to skin nothing between them, all he could think about was that they had the rest of their lives ahead of them, and he couldn’t wait. 

He had never been so absolutely excited for the future. The future had always been shrouded in darkness, after all with the lifestyle he had been leading life expectancy was not too high. If the alcohol hadn’t taken his liver, a cuckolded husband just a little too trigger happy or wayward boxing punch could do the job just as easily. And that’s not even mentioning the travel risks. It had never worried him before but suddenly he has a vested interest in seeing the next morning. And the one after that. And the one 10 years from now. And it was all thanks to the lovely lady he was lucky enough to call his wife in his bed. 

He drew her close, fitting her soft curves against his hard angles, ensconcing her in his warm embrace, and for the first time in a long time, his mind as he drifted off to sleep was absolutely blank. No vivid memories where he could only spectate as he made an absolute ass of himself, no sinister voices telling him that Daphne could and would do better, there was nothing but serenity. 

.

.

.

He woke up to see his wife still sleeping, nestled in his arms, and he was content to watch, see the soft rise and fall of her chest, and he wasn’t sure how long it has been but he watched her eyes flutter open. First thing in the morning, she was a vision. Not that his opinion changed at any point, but there was just something about when her defences were down, utterly his, warmly ensconced in bed it was special. He leaned down to kiss her, he couldn’t help himself but to taste her. His hands roamed her body, feeling the soft satin of her skin, felt dips and curves and valleys, and his hands found themselves drawing circles around her breast. massaging them, bringing her nipples to a peak. 

She moved away to throw her head back against his shoulder to moan, and he moved to pepper kisses down the arched column of her throat, god the sounds out of her mouth were absolutely sinful. If he weren't so hard already it would have got him these instantly. Even with all that they had shared, all the sex they had together, there was an innocence to her moans, like every time he brought her pleasure it was a new experience like she was discovering her pleasure and new heights every time. Her little gasps, the way the blush spread so beautifully across her body, she was his pianoforte and god he never wanted to stop playing. 

He twisted gently, nipping at her neck. He never thought himself the possessive type, but then again he’d never been in love. Now, anytime someone looked too long at her he wanted to claim her as his, pull her into his embrace, to show off his ring on her hand. He moved one of his hand down her left arm, weaving his fingers through hers. He felt his ring on her finger and nipped a little harder at her neck. 

“Mine.” 

She was his but he was completely hers as well. He felt her hand reach behind to grasp him firmly, she gave him a few strokes, before sliding him into her. He began to thrust in earnest and released her hand only to move it between her legs, to circle her clit gently, just the way she liked. Her moans, her gasps, her little breaths, he could feel her bucking into his hands, but also thrusting back to meet his hips. He moved on top of her to cage her in with his arms. He wanted to watch her as she came, wanted to watch her eyes flutter, to watch her scream his name, to watch her completely fall apart, safe in the knowledge that he would catch her because he would. Every time. 

He could feel himself get closer to his own climax but honestly, it felt secondary, it felt like the closer Daphne got, the closer he got, like watching Daphne fall apart was far more important, desirable, it was like that was the key to his pleasure. He wanted more than anything was to see her reach her peak. She was absolutely gorgeous as she writhed under him, her nails scraping down his back, trying to bring him closer, draw him in deeper, a feeling he shared all too deeply. He could never be too close to her, and he could never not oblige her. 

He knew she liked a bit of pain with her pleasure, being thrust against a wall often, but also a little hair pull, a little bite....he bent to mouth at the light bruise that was starting to appear. 

“Mine. Sweetheart...Daphne...you’re close...come on...come baby you’re so close...” 

He moved back, just far enough to watch her face, to watch her back arch, exposing her throat, her broken, moaned “Simon” 

He couldn’t believe this was what he had been missing. He pulled out and finished over her, one hand next to her face, holding him up, other hand desperately jerking his length in his hand, a deep groaned “Daphne” tearing from deep within him before collapsing beside her and pulling her into his arms.

He didn’t want an inch between them. The look on her face as she came would forever be the most miraculous thing her ever witnessed (until he witnessed her strength as she birthed their children). 

“Simon...” 

“Sweetheart?” 

“I missed this. I missed you. I haven’t slept that well in weeks, haven’t felt this safe.” 

“Me neither you know. It felt like something was wrong when I slept here alone...it was why I was staying out so late. Couldn’t bear to come home to this empty bed after finally having everything I ever wanted in my arms.” 

“No separate bedrooms ever again.” 

“I would love nothing more.” 

.

.

.

They had slept most of the day and then spent much of the evening after they woke to reacquaint their bodies, re-establishing the connection that had drawn them together in the first place, christening their little bubble of love. 

Now his wife dozed, still in his arms, and while his mind was calm and content, devoid of the racing thoughts that had plagued him, but he still couldn’t sleep, gently stroking her hair and gazing down at his sleeping wife instead. It wasn’t fear, as it once may have been, that he may lose her or she may disappear if he closed his eyes for too long, no they were past that. It wasn’t that he doubted their promise of communication for the future. It definitely wasn’t that he didn’t trust her to sleep with her. 

It was a possessive, protective sort of feeling that kept him awake. He wanted to keep Daphne from all the pain, for he had already caused her enough, and he wanted to keep her safe, for he had no idea what to do if she wasn’t with him. Anytime after meeting her, when he had tried to keep his distance from her, it had not gone well at all. He had lost control and spiralled quickly, and caused her pain as well. As his other hand moved absentmindedly to stroke gently over her abdomen, he started to think about why he didn’t want children. In all honesty, in his travels, he had enjoyed buying presents and playing with children, and he loved Gregory and Hyacinth. He didn’t hate children, no not at all. He could make himself believe that it was simply because of his vows to his father, but as he realized he wanted a wife, more specifically he wanted Daphne to be his wife, there was a deeper reason at play. 

The hardest thing about falling for Daphne was imagining what he would do without her. It was so difficult to even contemplate he couldn’t leave her, he had returned to see her in the garden at that ball. And once she was his wife, once he had watched her smile first thing in the morning after seeing him, after seeing her attempt to make pancakes to make him feel better, after creating new memories with her in practically every room of the house, he knew he had fallen so deeply in love with her that it was absolutely inconceivable that something bad could happen to her. 

It mattered more now to keep her without child. It was personal now. There was too much at stake to risk. 

But he wanted them to be happy, and honestly the idea of Daphne and him holding a child, reading to them, taking them to their first swim at a pond, he imagined the smile on Daphne’s face as they said their first word or took their first steps, and he knew a large smile would be mirrored on his face as well, god what he once thought was a pipe dream was now very tangible and he could see them being happy with a family. 

It wasn’t necessary, no, but it was wanted. 

The child would be loved he knew. Absolutely. And while he knew there was no doubt he would love trying for a child with Daphne, he would be there to support her however he could the whole way, “typical” husband behaviour be damned, it was losing her that was still giving him reservation. He knew exactly where the fear came from. His own mother. 

He knew Daphne came from strong stock but it didn’t stop him from worrying. Nothing really could. He guessed this was why he avoided feelings for so long. It was so easy to feel nothing, and while you could not feel true happiness, you never had to feel true sadness or fear of losing someone either. In experiencing the true meaning of happiness with Daphne, he had exposed himself to the possibility of ultimate sorrow as well. 

Was it worth it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp sorry it took a lil longer --im realizing homework is a lot more work than I remembered haha. 
> 
> I shall try to have the last chapter up by the end of the week, but also what do you all want to see in it? 
> 
> I have some ideas, but wanted to know what you all think as well!


	3. Chapter 3

Was it worth it? 

That was the question he was left with, and honestly, he didn't have to think twice. She was worth it. She was worth everything, he would walk through hell and back for her, he would traverse the seven seas for her, he would brave the ton's ferocious mamas for her without blinking twice. 

There were voices in his brain was telling him that he should guard himself, he should put up walls around his heart, he should protect himself but even those protests were half-hearted at most. He wasn't even sure that he could put up barriers if he wanted to. Daphne had found her way through his defences once, and he had no doubt she would again but he had no desire to put her through that.   
He felt her stir lightly in his arms. 

"Simon?" 

"Right here, sweetheart."

She gently blinked up at him, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He felt his eyes close of their own accord and he leaned into the comforting touch. 

"What's on your mind?"

"You...you, my dear, are always on my mind."

"I would hope thoughts of me would inspire a happier expression than the one you are currently sporting."

He took a deep breath. He never could hide much from her. 

"I am worried about you. About when you would be carrying our child. Having our child." 

It was Daphne's turn to take a deep breath as well. She knew she had told Eloise that she was not scared, and she knew from her discussions with Simon that he believed she was not scared at all but it was not true. She was terrified. More so now than ever before, mainly because now it felt like she had something to lose. She could not imagine there being a last time she would wake in Simon's arms, a last time she would eat ice cream with him in a secluded area of the estate, a last time they would make love, it was inconceivable to imagine doing something that would jeopardize their future together. 

“I am scared too. I will admit I was not as scared before, but now, the idea of cutting my time with you short is absolutely the most terrifying thing I could think of. But it was a leap of faith to fall in love with you. I barely had a choice in falling in love with you, but I always knew I would take the leap for you.” 

“The risk is always in proportion to the reward.” 

“I think I was supposed to make you feel better not worse about having a child, but all I can really offer right now is we’re both healthy, we will take every precaution, but most of all it’s not happening right now. We have time to talk more, come to terms with the idea.” 

Simon smiled at that. “We do have time sweetheart...and given we’re both awake, I think there’s a few things I would rather do than talk...” 

.  
.  
.

It was late at night in their bedchamber, the only illumination the dying firelight, and Simon was enjoying having his wife close to him. She was in his lap, and he was content to run his hands up and down all over her, bending down to lightly kiss her neck every once in a while. He loved having sex with his wife, it was an unparalleled pleasure, but the closeness they enjoyed in these quiet moments of flickering warmth, this was deeper than the passion and lust that always burned for her within him. It never felt necessary for words in these moments, and he had never felt as comfortable in another’s presence as he felt in these moments in hers.   
He felt Daphne gently pull his face away from her, and cupping his cheeks gently, she simply gazed, eyes roving all over face. 

He took the opportunity to look at her as well. He memorised her features, the curve of her lips, the angle of her nose, and when he looked into her eyes he saw the look of concentration, the blue crystals moving back and forth, crystal clear. 

He met her concentrated look with a questioning gaze of her own. 

She smiled back at him. “I never want to forget what you look like right now. You look so happy, so content, the light in your eyes, the love in your eyes...I want our children to have your eyes. I want them to be as loving, as strong, as thoughtful as you are.” 

He felt the tears start to gather at the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall. 

Previously he had always imagined Daphne holding their child. He had imagined Daphne holding her arms out as their child took their first steps into her embrace. He always imagined Daphne’s face as their child said “mama” for the first time. For the first time he imagined holding their child’s other hand as they waded, as a family, in the pond. He imagined holding their child as Daphne fed them. He imaged sitting in their bed, baby in Daphne’s arms and her in his. He saw a beautiful baby with Daphne’s delicate features and his eyes. He imagined them as a family. 

Together. 

He knew the tears were falling now. 

Their children would look like him. Their children would have his qualities. Their children would have pieces of him and Daphne wanted that. 

“I love you”, he choked out. 

He didn’t know how his wife continued to leave him utterly speechless, utterly lost with his only tether being his love for her.

He allowed himself to imagine holding their child. Taking them around to visit the tenants, teaching them math, having them sit on his lap in his study as he worked. He saw himself as a father, and the outpouring of love from his heart, for this idea that was being ever more tangible was like a dam broke. He felt a fierce wave of protectiveness of this idea, this little nugget that had taken root in his heart. He knew he would spend his life lavishing love on his wife, but he had room for more, he had room for a little baby that he desperately wanted. 

“I want our children.”

He saw the smile break out over Daphne’s face, “Me too. Do you want to know something? When we fought, at the beginning of our marriage, that was when I realised that I had stopped imagining myself holding a baby that looked like me. The baby in my arms had your eyes and your colouring and it struck me that I did not want a child with anyone else. I wanted your child. Not a child. Your child.”

“Our child sweetheart. Ours.” 

He watched the tears start to gather at Daphne’s eyes now, before she softly asked, “So are we doing this?”

He didn’t really have to think about it, the answer was yes. Yes they were doing this. 

.  
.  
.

He awoke with a start as he heard gentle cries from the nursery. Carefully extricating himself as to not wake Daphne, he gathered his robe about himself, put on his slippers and carefully slipped out of their bedchamber to the nursery. It didnt matter that it was some god awful hour of the night, that he was exhausted, that he was slightly cold, walking into their daughter’s room, seeing her there was enough to bring a smile to his face. 

He carefully picked her up, making sure she was covered in her blanket, and cradled her gently against his chest, rocking her slowly, lulling her back to sleep. Gazing down at their little bundle of joy, he remembered how excited he and Daphne had been about the prospect of trying for a child, as if they didn’t have the most active sex life around. He remembered the first time he came inside her, her inner walls contracting around his pulsing length, how he had never felt such a feeling of rightness, how gorgeous his wife looked in the throes of passion. He was addicted to it, and he knew the staff loved to snicker behind their backs about how their honeymoon phase has never ended. 

He remembered the first time they both realised she was carrying, he remembered the joy and how he ran to her, picking her up and twirled her around the room. He remembers crying with happiness, and she was too. He remembered his heart feeling like it was going to beat out of his chest, he was so absolutely over the moon he wanted to write Lady Whistledown personally to let the world know that they were going to have a child. He remembers the fear that followed, as he watched Daphne throw up for a month straight. He comforted her as best he could, holding her hair back, cuddling her, he didnt want to hurt her or the baby though so he was cautious and Daphne had to consistently reassure him. He got more and more cautious as she began to show, but god he loved his wife, and bless her for keeping him tethered and reminding him to enjoy this experience. 

He remembered long nights where they would lie on bed, his face close to her rounded belly as he spoke gently to their child, and Daphne stroked his hair. He thought this is what happiness is. This was the intimacy that had been missing for most of his life.   
For some reason, it was when Simon spoke that their child was most soothed, it began when Daphne was still carrying, but while their daughter would kick and move around and wouldn’t listen, it was with Simon’s voice that she would settle, she would relax. To give Daphne some reprieve, some rest, he would often speak to the their daughter, but at first he barely knew what to say. He spoke of his day, and it took a while for him to relax and to realize that the topics were as important as the act itself. He told their little baby of all his favorite places he had visited, the gorgeous sites he would take them to see when they were born. He talked of the tenants, of the estate, of the room decorations and renovations. He found it soon became the highlight of his day, his treasured time with his daughter, and now that she was here it had continued. She was already a daddy’s little girl for sure and he wouldn’t have it any other way.   
Daphne had held her first, he had insisted, but the first time she had opened her gorgeous little eyes and peered up at him he knew he was absolutely gone for her and would do absolutely anything she wanted. She had reached up and wrapped her first around his little pinky, and had snagged his heart. He continued their little tradition, he rocked her gently whenever he got the chance, loved her eyes as they looked up at him when he spoke about anything and everything. 

He often lost track of time, he would hold her forever if he could. 

As he gently rocked her in his arms, his story trailing till it joined the silence of the night, a shaft of moonlight gently filtering through the window, illuminating her delicate features, the way her eyes closed, the curve of her lips that was pure Daphne, he knew he should be quiet lest his daughter wake, but he could not help himself, he was so filled with feeling, it was almost involuntary, 

“I love you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Simon was gently rocking his daughter, walking her around the library as he pointed out his various favorite books he wanted to read to her, the various pictures of places he wanted to take her, grinning whenever he turned and caught sight of Daphne rolling her eyes, but smiling down at the book she was most clearly pretending to read. 

“Sweetheart, you haven’t turned a page in about half an hour now, don’t you think it’s time you give up the pretense of reading?” 

Daphne blushed slightly at being caught so brazenly staring at Simon and Amelia, but she couldn’t help it. For all his reservations and fears, Simon had taken to fatherhood like a duck to water. While she had been nervous, he had been steady, when she was frazzled he was calm, and it didn’t hurt that Amelia absolutely adored him. 

It was like their damn puppy all over again. Amelia often sat on the floor, playing with Dante as Daphne sat on the chaise, making sure to keep a close on the two, and she wasn’t sure what sixth sense they both had but as soon as Simon entered the house or was in the vicinity, Dante immediately perked up and made a move to the door while Amelia tried to pull herself up to follow Dante as best she could, which more often than not entailed her crawling to the door. There the two would wait for Simon, and Amelia would reach her little arms up for Simon to swing her up to him, and Dante would bark and prance around.  
Daphne could only watch the scene unfold, so incredibly happy for their little family, but a small part of her slightly jealous that both their children, yes she counted Dante as one of their babies, seemed to favor Simon. 

She wasn’t going to lie, she had been worried about introducing Dante to Amelia, worried that though he was absolutely a sweetheart, his size may be intimidating or a danger, but from the first time Dante had sniffed Amelia and Amelia petted him, it was a done deal, they were best friends, and utterly inseparable. Dante took his role of protector so seriously, a role encouraged by Simon to her amusement. Amelia seemed to instinctively know that while it was fine to play with mama’s hair, she had to be gentle with Dante’s, she had never once pulled his tail or ears or fur, and Amelia’s favorite place to sleep outside of Simon’s arms was cuddling anywhere with Dante. It seemed like Amelia didn’t even have to try to absolutely wrap both the men of the house around her and bend them to her will. Daphne had no doubt that she would see many scenes in the future of tea party’s, balls and god knows what else where Amelia was the centre of attention, absolutely doted upon by both Dante and Simon. 

She would never admit it, but Daphne sometimes felt a small spike of jealousy at how much Amelia loved Simon and Dante. Yes it was ridiculous, but she had taken to trying to teach Amelia to say “mama” whenever Simon was out. It was incredibly petty and it truly didn’t matter because she knew Amelia loved her but it didn’t change the fact that she desperately wanted Amelia’s first words to be her name. 

She knew for all of them Bridgerton’s, mama had been all of their first words no matter how much they had also loved their father. Amelia had gotten close a couple times, making sounds more and more often that seemed like she was getting close to speaking, and Daphne was loathe to spend more than a few minutes away from Amelia lest she miss her first word. 

As she watched Dante doze on the rug by the fireplace, saw Simon whirl their little girl around the stacks of books, an absolutely perfect picture. Smiling, she thought maybe it was time to call Benedict’s painter friend once more. While the portrait of her and Simon was nice, if not slightly blurred from the rain, it wasn’t their family. No this was their family, this is what she wanted commemorated in their hall, the four of them, enjoying their true happiness. 

“Angel what was that? Say it again angel... da da...you got it angel say it again!” 

Daphne snapped out of her thoughts and immediately jumped up to rush to Simon’s side. Even Dante tipped his head up to see what the fuss was about. She turned a corner to see Simon looking at Amelia with such utter love in his eyes, she could see the pride shining through, as he held their daughter close, gently coaxing her into speaking once more. 

“Angel come on..say it for me once again, even mama’s here...you can say it...” 

Amelia, with the sweetest little smile on her face, tipped her head to gaze at Simon, reaching up with one of her little hands to gently touch his cheek. Her brown eyes focused on her father, and Daphne knew in her heart she was absolutely the apple of her fathers eye, she was a daddy’s little girl through and through, and Amelia knew she had him wrapped around her little finger. 

“Da Da”

Simon was overjoyed, he felt tears come to his eyes he was so utterly happy he didn’t know that he would ever forget a single thing about this moment. Looking up at Daphne with tears in his eyes all he could say was thank you...thank god for her, thank god for their daughter, thank god his wife’s stubbornness, her love for him outweighed his stubbornness for his vow to his father, because he couldn’t imagine ever not wanting this, not wanting to be part of such a perfect moment, of such a perfectly amazing family. 

He had felt love, pride, elation, but it seemed fatherhood was always surprising him. Just when he thought he couldn’t feel happier, couldn’t feel more love for his wife and daughter, it was hell bent on showing him he could. 

He couldn’t imagine what a heartless ass his father had been to forgo such moments, but the thought left him as soon as it came. He thought less and less of his father, it just wasn’t worth his time when there was so much happiness that pervaded every other inch of his life. In all honesty he didn’t know when exactly all of his feelings of hatred and anger had completely dissipated, leaving only a slight tinge of sadness of what a sad life his father had led, deprived of happiness, of love, and he was just thankful his wife had saved him from himself, saved him from dooming himself to a similar existence. 

He was never going to forget this moment as long as he lived. 

Amelia watched the reaction she had elicited. She had never seen her father cry and look so happy. He always looked happy to be with her,  
but this...this was something else. Even as a little baby, she knew this is what she wanted to see on her fathers face everyday. If her speaking, saying dada made him this happy, she would say it every chance she got. 

.  
.  
.

Amelia, Belinda, Caroline and David were sitting beside Simon as he recounted the time his wife had decked Berbrooke. It was tradition for them to tell the stories on the day each year, it was commemorative for Daphne and Simon, the day they started to fall for each other with that dance at Vauxhall, and to honor the idiot that led them to each other. Their elder children could all recite the story by heart, but it was special to hear their parents tell it each year. They were all relaxing in the library together as a family, Dante and their two other puppies were dozing by the fire, and Daphne gently rocking baby Edward by the window completed the picture. 

Their family was absolutely crazy and wild, but they were the most tight knit loving group of people ever. They did some crazy things according the ton, like no matter what since Amelia was the oldest she was to be head of the family, it was not about eldest male child. It was things like that that made the ton a little nervous, but no one dared say something to the Hastings themselves. They were happy together though, and that was truly what mattered to them. They truly loved each other, enjoyed each other’s presence, as evidenced by the nights they just hung out together as a family. 

As they relaxed, growing more and more tired, David even falling asleep for a bit, it seemed like the night was over when suddenly they heard Daphne exclaim. 

They all jumped up and immediately dashed through the library to find her, and she was by the far window, moonlight shining, holding Edward, trying to coax him into speaking again. As Simon approached, she looked up at him in wonder, “He’s trying to speak! He’s going to say his first word!” 

Now Simon was thrilled, honestly. He knew that though Daphne would change nothing of their family and she utterly loved them, but it had always rankled her a bit that all of their children’s first words had been “dada”, or one case “dad.” Their children loved their mother and she knew it, but he knew she desperately wanted Edward, for that would definitely be their last child, to say mama first. And it seemed like she would finally get that, and he couldn’t be happier for her. It was a magical feeling, one he wanted her to experience as well. 

All the children and Simon gathered around Daphne and Edward, gently trying to prod him into speaking, encouraging him, saying “mama”, and a few minutes later they all went silent when Edward opened his mouth, as if he was going to speak. Anticipation hung heavy in the air, and all eyes were on Edward. 

“dada” 

Everyone’s mouth dropped open. Amelia and Belinda were dumbfounded, Caroline and David kind of found it funny and we’re trying to  
stifle their giggles, and Simon couldn’t help  
laughing and taking Edward from Daphne to hug him close. 

“You were supposed to say mama Ed!” 

“Dada!” 

“Yes I am your dada but Ed..that’s mama!” 

As her four other kids went to gather around and hug her, Daphne could only gaze at Simon and Edward, and as much as she wanted to be upset, the smile on Simon’s face, the happiness and pride and love so clearly evident, she couldn’t find it within her to drum up even an ounce of jealousy. This was what she had always wanted, to see Simon happy, for him to see that having an absolutely loving family that was happy and loyal and trusting and everything their family was incredibly special. It was something to be treasured, to be cherished, and she wanted to be the one to show him that, to give him that, and every time their child said dada, and his eyes shined with the same pride they had when Amelia had said it for the first time, she felt like she had succeeded. 

Simon raised his eyes, shining bright with tears, double checking to make sure she was okay, and the reassurance, the love, he saw reflected back at him, all he could do was smile. Daphne. She had changed his life, absolutely turned it around. Their children may have said dada first, but she was the heart and soul of their family. From the very first time she had wiped his brow he knew she would be the most amazing loving mother, and she was. She made their family a family, and she had given him more happiness than he ever thought he would have. Edward might have said his name first, but he was a mama’s boy through and through, and he could already see him starting to reach for her, wanting to go back to her arms. 

“Alright kids, off to bed with you all, I think there’s been enough excitement.” 

A chorus of “good nights” followed as their children went off to their respective rooms to retire for the night, and he gently bent to kiss Daphne, letting her know to head to their bedchamber and he would put Edward down for the night. 

As Simon gently rocked Edward to sleep on the way to the nursery, he fell asleep rather quickly, and he barely noticed when he was placed in his crib. Simon stood guard for a few moments, just watching how angelic his little child looked resting. It tugged on his heartstrings a bit that this would most likely be their last child. Watching Edward grow up would be hardest of all, knowing that this would be the last time a little baby of theirs would be this small. Fatherhood had been a crazy journey, and sometimes he missed being able to have sex anywhere in the house without worry, he missed not being stressed, he missed sleep, but he wouldn’t trade his life for anything. He loved being a father, and he loved his children deeply, and the pride he felt as his children smiled or laughed together, when he saw his family together was incomparable to anything. 

He heard a sound in the doorway that snapped him out of his reverie, and he turned to see who it was. It was Daphne, leaning against the doorway in his favorite silk nightgown of hers, loosely draped over her curves. 

“I got tired of waiting for you, so I wanted to come see what was holding you up.” 

“Just looking at this little guy.” 

“He’s adorable isn’t he?” 

“He is. Amazing. All of them are, you know.” 

Daphne laughed softly, “I know.” 

As Daphne walked forward and wrapped her arms around his middle, and he pulled her into  
his arms, keeping her close, he bent down to place a soft kiss in her hair. He fell a little deeper for her everyday. It was impossible not to. His wife, his best friend, the mother of his children, she was everything. 

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. this is the epilogue i wasn’t planning to write but i couldn’t help myself cuz simon is too freaking adorable with children. i swear to god tho for the time being there’s no more—at least till someone gives me an idea i can’t resist.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!  
> Thank you so SO so much for reading, I hope you liked it —  
> if you ever wanna come yell at me about bridgerton or harry potter or criminal minds or one of my other 34 interests please comment or hmu on tumblr disgruntledchowchow :))
> 
> also lmk what you’d like to see more of!!


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